In this life, I have lived my illusion continued for what has felt like an eternity. You see I have or well had a big family growing up, but it was one I don’t think I ever felt like I was truly a part of. That feeling of not belonging was terrible and I buried it deep within trying my best to be a part of something.
Yet, somewhere inside I always knew if I disappeared that no one would even notice.
Was it really that I didn’t belong or was that just part of my subconscious messing with me? I don’t really know. Funny thing that Daddy told me after Mama’s funeral was that they were Mama’s family and not ours so I shouldn’t worry that I wasn’t a part of anything anymore.
Sure I tried but it was like putting a square peg in a round hole. It just didn’t fit. If you go back and take a look a Mama’s Funeral, you could see that it was that way. There I was preparing to put my Mama in the grave and the rest were all loving and telling their mothers Happy Mother’s Day. I always wondered if they ever realized that the timing was not great for their display, but I don’t think so.
They surely never knew how devastated it was making me. My insides were in such pain and no one seemed to notice. Sadly, I hated all of them. Actually, I think I hated every one. I hated those who still had their mothers, I hated those who had the big family I wanted, I hated those who finally ended up with the things I dreamed about. That hate was awful, it festered inside and tore me apart.
That was how it felt my whole life. The hidden turmoil of pain and feelings of alienation, still no one knew. My parents didn’t even know the true pain I was in. they just kept telling me it was all in my head and that I needed to control my ‘episodes’.
Control them? How could I control them, I didn’t even understand them. All I knew was that I was terrified to be away from home.
We walked to school at that time but I rarely made it there. I would go running back home in horrified tears. It got so bad that Daddy would drive me there and meet a teacher on the corner. As that teacher held me screaming Daddy would drive away.
That was how my bipolar manic episodes would be handled. That and adding another little pill to the ones that Mama had to crush because I feared choking on them.
Lithium. That was the regimen of help I received in the 60’s for my problem. Strong, strong doses of lithium.
Did it help me? No.
And the journey continues. Thanks for taking this walk down my very dark dismal memory lane. It was a scary place. No longer does that hate eat away at my mind.
Now I have light.
